The Facets of Overwatch
by Crimson.Haven
Summary: Relishing the various pairings for Overwatch. The hype is real. All pairings possible in this composition.
1. Savior

**Savior**

"You saved me yet again, doctor."

The words were a common phrase he tells her, a comfort she relishes in the heat of battle. At times, she wonders if there's truly any lingering sentiment behind the letters.

The lines die from her lips.

She can't ask him though, as he dashes off to partake in the glory of conflict. That was his inner calling, to calm the storm through the swift arch of his blade.

Genji.

An unintended whisper breaks from her being, causing him to miss the next step. A visored gazed looks back at her.

"Take care."

Finally. It is in those words that she finds the salvation.

He nods, a silent acknowledgement of her thoughts. What little else was there to say? They were in the middle of war, decorated in the dirt and blood of their conflicts. In a world far torn from their dreams, they only had each other for companionship.

He reaches out a hand to her, as if compensation at the loss of his presence but stops. There was no room for comfort in the battlefield.

And he leaves her, this time for sure. She doesn't stop him, doesn't say another word. She can only watch at his fading silhouette, comforted that one day he'd come back to her side.


	2. Broken

**Broken**

The gauze on his wounds is a familiar, if not bittersweet sensation. Was it the despondent face that is hovering above him or the familiar scent of the doctor's antiseptic in the air? He can't be sure.

"Why do you always have to jump in?" Her voice is broken, much more broken that he could remember. He opens his mouth, eager to ease her worries but there were no words. His lips pressed together, there was no comfort to provide.

What could he give her? He was more shell than a man; the husk of Jack Morrison. He sits upon the stool, letting the medic sob as her hands mend his wounds. It was a common habit, a memory he thought had long been buried these past few years.

"Why do you do this to yourself, Jack?" She asks him, fruitless but anything was better than the silence. What could he offer her? Answers she didn't want to here? A man lost to wondering why he had been alive and why he still clung to the justice his old life had flourished with?

He missed the camaraderie, the warmth of coming back from mission. He missed the soft footfalls of a giddy Tracer or the strong supporting hands of his friends. He longed for the dream that was already over. He was a broken man.

"Why, Jack?"

"I don't know." His voice was equally broken, equally empty. Even as her tears trickled down his bruised cheek, he felt no stupor at her sadness. What then was this emotion that causes his heart to hurt, as if it robbed him of the right to breathe.

What then is this emotion that beckons him to wrap his arms around her? Broken as they are, maybe the simple gesture could make them whole- even for just a while.


	3. Differences

**Differences**

In their differences, she could only see how similar they were.

Was it why she found herself trailing along the darkness that he left in his wake? It was a morbid curiosity, the same curiosity that caused her chronal disassociation. What's stopping her from following him?

Surely he must be acutely aware of her stalking, he was a practiced military man. Yet, he let no obvious remark at her snooping. Why was it so?

He wove a path, guiding her along the labyrinth of alleyways and hidden passages. In dark shadows, he relished in the comfort of their shade. Tracer cared little for the darkness, she shone out too brightly. Like a ray of light in the pitch black shadows, she was ever the brightest orange against the grays.

Maybe that was why he let her tail him, maybe he needed a little light to guide him out of the dark.


	4. Rule 1

**Rule no.1**

Rule#1: Never fall in love with me.

She'd lay the rules the first time they met. While he may be her senior in terms of age and experience, she had allied herself to Talon more than he had. She was a decorated member of the group, her medals far outweigh his own.

Partners. She loftily calls their relationship, day by day as they're dispatched to their missions. His inky shadows proved useful to her sniping, while her abilities covered his 6 at the best situations.

They were a perfect match on the battlefield, a set of guns that best complemented each other. But their complements were limited only on their field of work. He hardly cared of the trivial connections amongst individuals and she was eagerto keep interaction to a minimum.

But why is that her arms are wrapped around his neck, his lips a mere inch from his scarred ones? It seems that this sort of situation has happened so often, she'd lost count already. Maybe it was the sheer need for a companion or the desire to have a warm body pressed against your own, she could hardly tell.

"What happened to rule #1?" He asks smugly, the huskiness of his voice adds to his allure. She could only muster a glare at his imposing set of eyes, covered by the mask he wears for life.

"Shut up." And she presses her hot lips against his own, eager to test the limits of rule #1.


	5. Healing

**Healing**

"Jack."

The name is one Genji never expected to hear again. More so from her lips. Why is it that a simple name could render his motionless? Or the simple gesture of mending the soldier's wounds a sight to hold.

He was frozen, trapped in the storm of his thoughts. What little details he would have missed, his visor didn't hold back on emphasizing. Why did he feel like his heart was tightly clenched? Was he not machine enough to stop these emotions? It seems she was more human that he'd let on.

He keeps his distance, silent and observation. Like a bleeding wound, he lets the pain course in him. Why was it that his fingers twitched every time her slender fingers skimped over scarred skin? Was he imagining them on his own?

A soft shake of his head and he tries to disperse the sheer fog of malice. He had no claim over her, over the warm comfort she provides or the promise of rest in her arms. He was a mere soldier much like he, a man sent to war only to wither in her arms.

With a tired sigh, he slips out from the room. His wounds will have to be mended later, and if he could wish, alone. His footsteps bounce along the empty hallway, reminding him just how late it was and how little chance there was for him to be mended tonight. Was it so much to ask? He pulls off the visor from his face, a sigh escaping his scarred lips.

He felt tired, more tired after the spectacle in the infirmary. Maybe sleep can cater to him for the time being.

He continues on, eager to rid himself of the armor pieces and bask in what little comfort his bed could offer him. Maybe his dreams could stop the pain, just for tonight.

"Genji."

He pauses, the voice is from one person alone. He turns to the call, a weary look on pale features. It was salvation.

It must be pride that's stopping him from fully facing her or the sheer annoyance at how she had shared a time with the former hero of Overwatch. "You left so soon before I could treat you."

"You were busy." Was that acid in his tone, he hoped she didn't notice.

But she did. Blond locks tumble down to hide the sorrowful features of the healer, "I apologize. I was... I was caught in the past." A dry chuckle emerges from his own scarred lips, leaving a bitter taste on his tongue, "Don't we all?"

He angrily presses on the code for his room, eager to shy away from her presence. He wants nothing of her, nothing of the stories he listens from her lips, nothing of the past. He was never in her past, but that solder was. He felt sickening envy course in his veins, it was dishonorable.

"Genji." When had her hand clasped around his own? He felt himself shake, the pain and emotions bubbling around him. He was so confused, so broken, and she was his balm.

"Genji." She turns his stoic frame towards her. Despite the difference in their height, her hands were a soothing touch on his hot flesh. "You need healing."

His tired green eyes found blue and he felt a little selfish, a little wanting. Cool hands covered her gloved ones, keeping her there where he could reach her.

"Yes, I need you."


	6. Comrades

**Comrades**

"We were comrades."

The line is lost to oblivion as he pointed the barrel of his gun at the inky darkness lying beneath him. What is remorse? What is pain? He cocks his head back, a grim line on lips hidden behind the mask.

There really was no respite in a simple act, no comfort. They could not bring back the past, or undo the sins they've clad themselves in. What story was there to tell should he pull the trigger?

Nothing.

"True enough." He toys with the gun, tipping it up and down to put emphasis. "We used to be a team."

"A team you broke apart." And there was inky blackness, his visor was pitch black. Reaper had tackled him in that short moment of weakness, he should have seen it coming.

He pulled the trigger multiple times, letting the rain of gun shots bounced across the worn walls of the alleyways. The clawed gloves of his adversary cut on his skin. Ah, what would the doctor say to him, a moment of petty grudges.

He graps on the solid arms of his former comrade, wrestling at the column of strength and sinew. He pulls on the limb, throwing the man off his sight. And black was replaced with red, his quick footing not losing a beat.

He faces the sinister barrel of the Talon operative's shot was no fear in his eyes, only fatigue. He was tired of this petty war, tired of this life. Maybe that was why he sought out Reaper, he was tired.

Just one pull of the trigger and everything would be over. But it's not that easy, the gun's out of his sight and a swift kick to his side is enough to leave him as a coughing mess on the floor.

"You won't have your death so easily." Reaper towers over him this time. A bittersweet tang on the soldier's lips, he finds purchase of his gun. It's but a meter away but really what could he do, Reaper was trapped in the limbo of life and death. He couldn't kill him if he wanted to.

"Live this nightmare, Jack. Just like what you have lead me into." With the shadows of the night encroaching on their little setting, he disperses into the darkness.

Jack, his former name now hung on the air, lies on the cobbled floor in pain and in exhaustion. The life of a soldier was far too exhausting without your companions to help you up; to weary to walk alone.


	7. Execute

**Execute**

 **Execute.**

In that moment of weakness, Talon was able to infiltrate through the nanomachines hooking him up. He was powerless, unable to control even a finger.

His body surged with so much power, like a drug keeping him on high. He dashed along Hanamura, the familiar landscapes are a blur around him. There was only one mission in his mind, the program overriding any thought.

He tried to cry out, tried to tell them but even the code rendered him mute.

 **Execute.**

He clamors along, a drunk stuport in his steps. He tries so hard to fight it, the machinations of his body working against his will.

 _Stop. Stop._

It's all a silent cry. His team would be expecting him soon, only for him to slaughter them in cold blood.

Please, let not a single one cross his path.

He jumps down the platform, a loud thud of his mechanic feet announcing his presence. He prayed, a trait he had abandoned long ago. He prayed no one was here, that they had sought him elsewhere.

He willed his limbs to cease, it was slowly working. A shrieking sound echoed in his mind, perhaps the program was being removed from his system. How do omnics retain their sanity in such situations?

He grasps onto the metal column beside him, wrapping his fingers as leverage over the structure. This should be over quick.

He closes his eyes, willing his body to heed to his commands. This should be over soon, he'd have Winston check on the mechanisms for extra measure later.

"Genji?"

A soft familiar cry falls upon his ears and his body turns to the call.

 _No. No. No._

 **Execute.**

He loses control for a short moment, but it's enough for the plague to override his mental grasp. He languidly walks to the medic, a soft smile on her features.

"I was so worried. Thankfully you're in good shape." She lets out a breath, "We should meet up with everyone back at Point A."

His body musters a nod at her words. Little did she know how he cried out her name, silent screams. He had no control over his body, he hated it, the very machine that was his shell.

His hand finds the familiar worn leather of his sword, drawing the blade in a slow arc.

"Is something wrong Genji?" She asks, a shade of fear on her face.

 _Run. Run now. Run and call the others. Run, behind them. Run away from me, Angela._

He'd never call her by her name, always preferring her profession. Funny how in silence he holds no hesitation on calling her with such familiarity.

"Run." He manages to choke out. But it was too late.

Red on white, marring the cool shade of gray with crimson. A cry of pain echoes through the silence of the garden as a body falls to the ground.

It's at that moment that he gains back the control he had lost. Mission: Execute had been achieved.

The loved blade falls in a clatter beside him as his weary arms scooped the injured medic. She's bleeding all over, staining his own armor with her lifeblood.

"I'm sorry. I'm sorry." He sobs, if his body was even capable of tears. His masked face bowed upon her breast, cradling her body in soft rocking motions.

A gentle hand, one that has always aided him in his moments of pain caresses his covered cheek. He turns to her lidded sapphires, "It's not your fault Genji. I know you better than that."

"I tried to stop. I tried to control myself. I'm sorry. I'm so sorry Angela. I-"

"Shh." She chastises him, a grimace on her features. He should call someone, anyone but he knew no one else aside from her. She was the only medic he turned to, what other name should he cry out?

"It's all right Genji."

"It's not."

"You've done your best."

"No, doctor. Don't." He pleads, even if he could sense the slowing heartbeat or the drastic amount of blood she lost, he was trying so hard to lie to himself. "Don't. I'll-I'll call someone."

"It's all right Genji."

"No, don't." _Please, please don't._

 _I love you._

 _..._

She leaves him with a smile and the soft reassurance that she'll wake up soon.

 _She didn't._


End file.
